


Keeping Up Appearances

by ComradeGiddyBiscuit



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Dominance, Dominant Mr. Gold, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Flogging, Fluff and Smut, Golden Lace, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Master/submissive, Paddling, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rumbelle - Freeform, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spanking, Submission, Submissive Belle, Subspace, collared
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComradeGiddyBiscuit/pseuds/ComradeGiddyBiscuit
Summary: A week in the unassuming life of Lacey French and Mr. Gold.
Relationships: Belle & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Lacey/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 11
Kudos: 40





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> “What would RumBelle have been like had Regina never known about Belle’s presence?” I wondered one day and came up with this smutty scenario. I decided to blend Lacey/Belle as best as I could without going overboard in one direction. Had Regina known about Belle, I think Lacey would have been as over the top as she was in season 2, but for the purposes of this plot Belle was just a random unknown caught up in the curse so Regina’s personal ire was not part of the mix. So while this is technically Golden Lace, it is also very much Rumbelle.

Lacey French kept a schedule as tight as her Saturday night skirts. Monday through Friday, she worked at the Storybrooke Public Library. She ate dinner with her widower father every Tuesday and Thursday, staying until he fell asleep after _The Tonight Show_. Every Friday during her lunch break, Lacey treated herself to a dessert at Granny's Diner. On Saturday evenings from eight-thirty until eleven o'clock, she met friends for drinks and pool at The Rabbit Hole. On Sundays she slept in and eventually did her weekly marketing. Anyone setting their watch to her schedule would find it very tidy indeed. 

To the untrained eye.

Mr. Gold kept a schedule as tight as his wallet. Monday through Friday, he operated his shop, Mr. Gold's Pawnbroker & Antiques. He  _ personally  _ collected the rents every first and third Saturdays of the month, much to the chagrin of his tenants. Every other Saturday evening from nine o'clock until ten-thirty he silently nursed exactly two drinks in a dark corner at The Rabbit Hole. He took all of his lunches in the back room of his shop, except on Fridays when he splurged on the lunch special at Granny's Diner, which he took to-go. On Sundays he slept in and eventually prepared his lunches for the upcoming work week. Anyone setting their watch to his schedule would find it very tidy indeed. 

To the untrained eye.

**\-------**

It was no secret that Lacey supplemented her income with the occasional odd job, but even those had a schedule: the shifts at her father's floral shop during Christmas, Valentines Day, Easter, and Mothers Day; working booths at the various festivals that made their little hamlet so darling; and the occasional housekeeping shift at Granny's Bed & Breakfast during the tourist season. Well, what  _ should be _ the tourist season. Despite the quaintness of Storybrooke, they did not receive many visitors. Granny Lucas always had Lacey on hold - _just in case!_ \- eager to take advantage of her truncated hours at the library on Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays. It just never happened. So Lacey found another large estate to keep. After her shift at the library every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons, Lacey went to her upstairs apartment, showered, changed and left for Mr. Gold's house. To everyone else, she was merely going to clean his salmon colored Queen Anne house. In reality, she was going to add a little filth of her own.

Lacey enjoyed constants in her life. They kept her anchored, safe. Her schedule was a constant, one she executed with military precision. The other constant in her life was her small collection of lace chokers, which she wore daily as a reminder of her secret schedule, the one she shared with Mr. Gold. Most people dreaded Mondays as they represented the cycle of another soul-draining work week. However, for Lacey, Mondays were the beginning of playtime.

**::Mr. Gold::** Black Rose.

Lacey bit her bottom lip and smiled. She set her phone down and went to her top drawer where all of her lace chokers were daintily laid out. She plucked out the requisite choker, a pattern of roses in black lace with a long stem rose silver charm dangling from the center. After expertly hooking it around her neck, Lacey raised her auburn curls into a clip and raised her chin as she snapped a photo reply to Mr. Gold. Proof of her obedience. 

**::Lacey::** Yes, Sir.

**::Mr. Gold::** Good girl.

Lacey felt a trill of pleased warmth race through her veins. She loved being a good girl. Although, given she was wearing her black rose choker, she understood that there was also wiggle room for her to be a bad girl, too.

**::Mr. Gold::** You may wear what you please. I will prepare dinner but you are to breathe the Malbec I set out on the counter as soon as you arrive. 

**::Lacey::** Yes, Sir.

**::Mr. Gold::** Remember: if you are a bad girl at work today, there will be consequences. 

Lacey felt her breath quicken as a little moan escaped her lips. The black rose collar was used as code for her to be naughty so that her Master could deliver a delicious punishment later that evening.

**::Lacey::** Yes, Sir.

**::Mr. Gold::** Have a lovely day, Miss French.

**::Lacey::** I hope you have a good day, too, Sir.

Lacey decided to wear a knee-length black waterfall skirt embossed with midnight blue roses over semi-sheer black thigh-hi stockings. Her solid midnight blue blouse frilled shoulder to shoulder and its scoop neck showed off her choker nicely. Ensuring her heels lined up perfectly with her back-seam, Lacey gave herself a quick once over in the full-length mirror before nodding in satisfaction. Professional sexpot was a look she was gaining confidence in. 

Her morning went by quickly. She was able to watch the toddler reading program as she shelved returns, smiling fondly at the semi-circle of young children entranced by stories of anthropomorphic animals, puppets, and silly voices. Pushing the pangs of melancholy out of her mind and heart, Lacey finished her tasks and before she knew it, her lunch break was soon upon her. It was while she ate her cold noodle salad that Lacey concocted a plan that would fulfill her desire to be naughty. 

**\-------**

After clocking out, Lacey went upstairs to her apartment above the library and changed into flats for the walk to Mr. Gold's house, throwing her heels into her oversized tote bag. Lacey then twisted her neat ponytail into a high bun and set off. A bureau in the guest room held another wardrobe entirely for Lacey, including running gear she used early in the mornings when she found the strength to leave Mr. Gold's warm bed. A bracing morning jog back to her place for a quick shower and a bite to eat before she dressed and went to work, and no one was the wiser. Living in the apartment above the library certainly had its perks. No one stopped Lacey as she made her way out of the high street and into the neighborhoods; no one said hello. Her plain blue princess cut peacoat covered her outfit, masking her true self from the rest of the world. Lacey hid in plain sight: she was just an average worker bee going about her business on a breezy October golden afternoon Monday.  She let herself into Mr. Gold's house, kicked off her sneakers and placed them on the shoe rack before hanging up her coat and bag. She then slipped her heels back on and made a beeline to the kitchen to open the Malbec bottle Mr. Gold left for her. Once it was breathing, she took a photo and sent it to Mr. Gold.

**::Lacey::** The Malbec is breathing, Sir.

**::Mr. Gold::** Good girl.

Lacey let her hair down to twirl a tendril around her finger. She so loved being good, but the black rose collar gave her permission to be bad today - and bad she had been. Mr. Gold will not think she is a good girl for much longer and she was eagerly anticipating her punishment.  She had a drink ready in her hand when Mr. Gold came home, her ponytail fixed and flawless as her touched up makeup. 

"Thank you, Miss French," Mr. Gold sighed as she took his coat, hung it up and presented him with an Old Fashioned. He kissed her on the check and made his way to the lounge. He welcomed her to cuddle up next to him, which she did, making sure to keep her heels off of the sofa. 

"Would you like a drink, sweetheart?" 

"No, thank you, Sir. One glass of wine at dinner will suffice."

They snuggled in comfortable silence, Mr. Gold preferring to slowly slip into their dynamic of master and submissive. 

"Display," he said gently, prompting Lacey to stand before him, her hands behind her head as her eyes fixed ahead of her. He looked her up and down, his gaze heating her skin. He lifted his index finger, her signal to slowly turn. When she faced him, his eyebrow was quirked.

"Straighten your stockings, dearie."

"I'm sorry, Sir." Lacey said, immediately correcting the twisted thigh-hi. Mr. Gold stood up with curious hum as he watched her.

"Remind me of this infraction later, Lacey."

"Yes, Sir."

He handed her his empty glass before leading them into the kitchen to prepare dinner. 

"May I please roll up your sleeves for you, Sir?"

He gave her request a moment contemplation before acquiescing her request with a nod. These small touches of care sent a thrill of love and desire through Lacey's veins. Letting her take care of him in these tender ways was Mr. Gold's way of showing he cared. She carefully rolled up his sleeves and held them in place with his arm garters. When she was done she stood up straight and accepted his kiss of thanks with a squeak of joy. 

"Wash your hands and then hand me the herbs I set aside."

Once she complied he handed her his cane to hook onto the island before he shooed her to sit opposite and told her about his day. He was attentive to her as she chattered, feeling hunger gnawing as the aroma of grilled lamb filled her nostrils. She set the table at his command and waited as he poured her wine and cut her meat for her, something he usually did when she wore her pink choker. She would never complain about the attention. He raised his glass of Malbec. She mirrored. 

"To the beginning of another week," he proposed. 

"Cheers." 

"Tell me about your day, sweetheart."

"Nothing terribly exciting, except for the mountain of books I had to scan and shelf. Everyone stuffs the return slot over the weekend, missing their due dates by the skin f their teeth. Oh, there is a new  _ Pete the Cat _ book, so Mrs. Potts read that during story hour for the toddlers-” She abruptly stopped and a heavy pause settled between them before she reached for her wine glass. Mr. Gold gently clasped her other wrist and slid his fingers up her hand before their fingers intertwined. She tried to ignore his heavy stare, but the will of his masterful gaze was too strong for her to resist.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No need. No need at all.” He kissed their clasped hands before releasing her so they could finish their meal.

Though neither of them knew why, Mr. Gold and Lacey understood that it was imperative for them to keep their relationship a secret. An unknown force pulled at their instinct, a mutual pact born of protection and true love. They could not define the danger, or rationalize its presence, only its existence. For that reason alone, they lived separate lives under the public eye. Any more commitment would draw unwanted attention. And that, screamed every fiber of their being, was **_bad_ ** .

**\------**

When they were finished he insisted on clearing the table as he nodded upward. “Off with you. I will join you shortly.” He drank a glass of water as he washed the dishes, ensuring the alcohol he drank before and during dinner was further diluted so he has his complete wits about him. There were evenings when he had Lacey do all of the work: the cooking, the clean up, the serving, nights when she truly _served_. Mondays, however, were more egalitarian. Mr. Gold felt it was best to start each week with a sampling of all of their mutually favorite indulgences. 

Lacey knew when she was dismissed that it was time to prepare herself. She removed her skirt and blouse, carefully hanging them up in a wardrobe he designed for her in the bedroom next to his. She wore her black lace bra and panties to match the choker and the tops of her thigh-hi stockings. Ensuring her garter belt was secure, Lacey impulsively decided to twist her stockings on purpose. _Oh, Mr. Gold will be most displeased!_ Lacey chewed on her bottom lip, hiding her grin. When she heard his familiar gait on the stairs, Lacey assumed the waiting position: her posture perfect, feet apart, eyes fixed on the wall, and arms behind her back in readiness for her Master's first order. She felt his presence in the doorway, admiring her exquisite submission before flipping the internal switch that turned him from lover to Master. He walked over to the wardrobe and took out something she could not yet see before he walked in a slow circle around her. 

"Is my little rose wanting to be plucked?"

"Yes, Sir." 

"Hmm. Do you think you deserve tending to your garden?"

"If it pleases you, Sir."

Lacey felt his breath against her ear as he hissed, "I think you need some pruning first, sweet one." 

"As you wish, Sir."

She could feel the frustration radiating off of him as his gaze lowered to her twisted stocking. A snap of leather across the back of her thighs took her by surprise as she gasped and tried not to arch forward. 

"Straighten those stockings," he commanded. "The fact that I told you twice means you have earned twice the consequences." 

"Yes, Sir," Lacey replied, quick to straighten her stockings. He snapped the crop against her flesh again, making sure to hit the sensitive flesh between her thighs. She inhaled sharply at the sting, loving and loathing it all at once. He continued his stroll around her, cane first like a gentleman inspecting a curious piece of art, the crop caressing her warming skin. 

"Were you a bad girl today?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Tell me." 

"I touched myself at work today, Sir."

"Did you?" The leather tip of the crop kissed her pert breasts, tapping against her hardening nipples. "Tell me more."

"This afternoon I was in the reference section and I was so overcome I just couldn't help myself."

"What overcame you so greatly that you felt compelled to behave in such a debauched manner?"  
  
"Anticipation of being with you, Sir."

"I'm flattered. What did you do?"

"I crept to the darkest corner, lifted up my skirt and rubbed myself through my silk panties."

He tapped the crop against her silk panties, causing her thighs to twitch. "How did it make you feel, Miss French?"

Her alluring blue eyes briefly flicked to his. "Delicious."

"Hmm. And did you come?"

Lacey hesitated, knowing exactly how this was going to unfold.

“Yes.”

The crop flitted under her chin, tapping twice to make her look up at those amber eyes that were both warm and hard as flint.

“I do not recall you asking my permission if you could come.”

“No, Sir.”

“Who gave you permission to come?”

“No one, Sir.”

“ _ Very _ bad girl.” He growled in her ear.

She bit her lip, trying to hide the quirk of a grin. “Yes, Sir.”

He gave her a stern glare before withdrawing to the wardrobe of their toys.

“Shoes and bra off. First position.”

Lacey complied immediately, slipping off her heels and setting them out of the way before assuming her position: butt resting on her heels, knees splayed with her palms upward, gaze neutral. It was a minute before she felt the familiar tickle of leather dance softly across her breasts. It took all of her self control not to announce her pleasure audible.

“Do you like that, Miss French?”

Lacey let her moan slip out. Her mind was already starting to blank out into that wonderful realm of foggy pleasure. 

“Safeword?”

“Teacup.”

The tapered rectangle keeper of the black leather crop tapped her pert breasts, alternating from sensual circles around her nipples to sharp, rapid taps, its sting increasing as he warmed up body. Lacey was only vaguely aware that with every inhale she tilted her breasts upward, aching for the inconsistent bite and caress of the crop. Suddenly the crop was tapping her under the chin twice, a signal to raise her gaze to his.

“Only bad girls come without permission, Miss French.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whimpered, struggling against the impending fuzz of euphoric vacancy her mind took on when they played. The leather keeper slithered down her neck to tease the rose charm dangling from her collar, to her collarbone, sternum, down between her breasts and smooth belly to rest just below her belly button and above her panties. He tapped her silk clad pubis thoughtfully. Her muscle twitched as the crop keeper caressed the flesh of her inner thighs, giving a series of random rapid fire thwacks that would be immediately followed by tender strokes. Lacey knew not to tense; she was trained well and kept her body relaxed even as the leather keeper gave her a firm whack against her pubis. Her skin was tingling and she felt wetness gather in her come stained panties; by the third such round of caress and whack, Lacey let a whimpering moan escape her lips as her hips rotated involuntarily. The crop slid to the waistband of her panties again before slipping further downward to tease the outline of her nether lips. She rode the keeper, trying in vain to seek out some semblance of gratification. 

"My little wanton is never satisfied," Mr. Gold tutted as he flitted the crop against her most tender area with masterfully controlled little flicks. Just when Lacey mewled in frustration, Mr. Gold abruptly withdrew back to the wardrobe.

"Knickers off."

Expertly shimmying her panties out from under her garter belt, Lacey quickly discarded the sodden material and resumed her position before Mr. Gold returned from the wardrobe. Before she could muse what was coming next, the leather flaps of a flogger gently licked her sex - not enough to hurt - just enough to disturb her expectations.

“Oh, gods!” Lacey cried inadvertently. 

His free hand splayed atop the crown of her head, tilting her gaze to his. He was pleased to see her pupils dilated with pure desire. “There is only one god here, Miss French.” His voice was velvet covered gravel. He released her and stepped away. "Third position.”

Like an automaton, Lacey slid face down, arms above her head with wrists softly crossed, butt in the air to present to her Master. It was her favorite way to postulate before his dominance. She felt the gentle _thwap_ of the flogger against her bottom followed by a series of light licks. The first smack of true impact emptied all thoughts out of her mind as she slipped securely in the comfortable bliss of subspace where pain and pleasure were interlocked in a lovers embrace and nothing else mattered but acquiescing to his dominance.

"Color?" Mr. Gold asked casually, checking in on her.

"Green," Lacey mumbled, barely above a slur. Green, the color to confirm she was in a joyful headspace and eager to continue.  He understood her desire not to speak and did not talk to her as he gave her a series of progressively intense flogs against her backside and thighs.  She let out a staggering gasp as his nails raked down her spine. Before the shock wore off a series of flogs licked her ass, already smartening. He followed that up with another rake of his nails, this time including her stinging rear flesh, making her cry out longingly. She imagined it was just the perfect shade of red for him. She yelped and moaned as he worked her flesh over and over, flogging her buttocks and thighs to warmth before delivering the cooling sting of his nails. She shifted slightly as she felt desire concentrate at her core and intensify with every blow. He eventually noticed - he notices everything - because those wicked fingers gently probed her sex.

“Wet again, my sweet?”

“Always, Sir.”

“Do you think your greedy cunt deserves relief?”

“Only if it pleases you, Sir.”

“Everything about you pleases me," he murmured, removing his fingers from her sex to stroke her hair like a treasured cat. She lifted her head ever so slightly to lean into the caress when a smack across her already smartening ass made her yelp and bow her head properly. "But since you decided to alleviate yourself without my permission, you have not earned the right to come yet."

Lacey whimpered as she wiggled her rear shamelessly, her wet sex aching to be touched again. 

"Clearly you need to return to rudimentary lessons. Position two on the bed."

Lacey crawled to the bed and scrambled up, quick to assume position two: kneeling with her knees together, palms down. Out of her periphery, Lacey saw Mr. Gold return to the wardrobe. A short black leather paddle replaced the flogger. He sat on the edge of the bed and guided her over his lap, her pert and red ass at the perfect angle to deliver a resounding spanking. 

Mr. Gold set the paddle beside him and splayed his palm over her stinging buttocks, grabbing and kneading her flesh. "Now, as I am being so patient with you and graciously going over your most basic lesson, you are going to count my spankings and then express your gratitude for every blow I deliver to your beautiful arse. Do you understand me, Miss French?"

"Yes, Sir."

The first open palm smack was so quick it caught her off-guard, causing her to yelp and scramble to make good on her chore. "One. Thank you, Sir."

Another. 

"Two. Thank you, Sir."

Another.

"Three. Thank you, Sir."

Her emotions were beginning to overwhelm her; oh how so longed to be good, to please him for the sake of pleasing him. Rewards were nice, but his pleasure was the only thing she cared about and Lacey felt wretched for having been so bad that she was reduced to the most elementary of lessons. A fourth smack jolted a sniffle out of her as she burned with humiliation.

"Four. Thank you, Sir."

"Are you feeling properly shamed, Miss French?"

"Yes, Sir." 

A whole series of smacks that she had to think on before announcing, "Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Thank you, Sir."

She felt his body beginning to rise and fall with his quickening breath as he briefly paused to rake his nails across her burning bottom, causing her to squirm and whimper. He quickly smacked her butt twice.

"Nine. Ten. Thank you, Sir." 

"Fifth position behind me."

Lacey left his persons to get in a low hands and knees position with her head bowed. She was so unaware of the world outside of her special zone, that felicitous state reserved just for her when they played, that she gave a start when firm hands tenderly guided her backward. One arm was wrapped around her waist while a finger entered her sex from behind, making a cursory exploration before feeling satisfied to exit and continue to guide her entrance back onto his waiting cock. Lacey tilted her head back and sighed longing as Mr. Gold groaned.

Her hands firmly planted down on the bed in front of her as his legs stretched out beneath her, Lacey dictated a desperately eager pace. She heard him growl behind her followed by a _whoosh_ of air and a smack of leather on her bouncing ass. Lacey had forgotten all about the paddle, but oh what a blessed surprise. She rocked into his blows, pain and pleasure becoming one harmonious feeling as his cock stretched and filled her and the paddle reminded Lacey of her passionate subservience.  The paddle soon began to wan as Mr. Gold's hips began to thrust upward into Lacey's rhythm. One resounding smack was delivered to her haunch followed by a breathy demand that did not penetrate her mind until he ceased all attention. 

"Turn around, my love," he repeated, giving her one more open-palm slap on her beautifully sore ass. Reticent to separate though she was, Lacey quickly did as she was commanded and was rewarded with his hands on her face, caressing, pushing back her sweaty hair and bringing her back from the submissive zone with loving eye contact. Licking her lips, Lacey bent forward to steal a kiss. He returned it in full, rewarding her badness before thrusting up into her again to remind her of unfinished business. Lacey's gasp melted into a moan as she ran her hands down his face to plant firmly against his chest, stabilizing herself as they quickened their rhythm. 

"Oh, fuck," Lacey groaned. 

"Do you need to come?" He asked, still in control enough to taunt her. Lacey nodded desperately. "You know what to do."

"Yes, please, please, I need to come so bad. Please, may I come, Sir?"

One hand remained curled at her hip while the other found its way just above their join where the pad of his thumb expertly worked her wanting clit. Her staggering gasp must have been all he needed to hear as his hips snapped faster, hers following, chasing that ever illusive wave of ecstasy until they collided together in mutual orgasmic euphoria. She rode out every shockwave as he emptied inside of her, their noises of pleasure still echoing one another. Lacey was pulled downward for a passionate embrace, her face showered with loving kisses, her hair and sweat-slicked skin gently petted.  She could not talk yet, merely entangle her limbs with his, ever mindful of his injury. Closing her eyes, Lacey was content to accept his tenderness as their dynamic returned to an egalitarian statehood. 

"Give me a color," her lover implored.

Lacey did not even have to think about it. "Blue."

She felt his smile against her forehead. Blue. Their color for peace and love in its most placid state of tranquility. Lacey felt safe. When her mind returned to the here and now, Lacey opened her eyes and smiled up at him. Her hand cupped his cheek and he mirrored the gesture. 

"I love you, Mr. Gold."

"I love you, Miss French."

Mondays may be the return of drudgery for some, but for Lacey French, Mondays were the return of wicked joy with her true love.


	2. Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinks of this chapter: Daddy Kink (not quite age play); Paddling. Voyeurism. Food play.  
> Color System:  
> Green = Good to continue  
> Blue = At peace, content  
> Orange = Needs a moment to pause & mentally catch up  
> Pink = Needs touch/words of encouragement  
> Teacup = Safeword to immediately stop

There was a text message already waiting for Lacey when she woke up.

 **::Mr. Gold::** Pink Pearl.

Lacey squealed with glee and dropped her phone to clap joyously. When she pulled herself together, she texted back:

 **::Lacey::** Yes, Daddy!!!

 **::Mr. Gold::** Take your shower. I will send you photos of what you are to wear today. 

**::Lacey::** Yes, Daddy!

Lacey promptly obeyed him, humming to herself as she made her way to the powder room. When she returned from her shower, several text messages were waiting for her with instructions. The first was her dressing requirements: white bikini cut lace trimmed silk panties with a see-through lace bra; over-the-knee white socks with folded cuff; black polished Mary Jane shoes; and a lace-trimmed dress of light blue and white pinstripe with a lace-trimmed Peter Pan collar and sash tie at her natural waist. A white cardigan embroidered in pink flowers will match her pink choker perfectly. He sent her photos taken from her wardrobe so there wasn't a question what Lacey is to wear. Once she was fully dressed, Lacey took a selfie for confirmation.

 **::Lacey::** I dressed myself, Daddy! 

**::Mr. Gold::** Good girl. For breakfast, I want you to make yourself one medium-poached egg, one slice of lightly buttered toast, and a wedge of cantaloupe. Enjoy a cup of Earl Grey tea. 

**::Lacey::** Right away, Daddy.

 **::Mr. Gold::** Two braids, styled however you like for work. Loose when I come home from work tonight. I want to use them when I use you later tonight. Light makeup. Pink lipstick.

 **::Lacey::** OK, Daddy!

As she waited for her egg to poach, Lacey parted her hair and effortlessly braided each section before pinning them criss-cross into a crown atop her head. Lacey's breakfast was ready just as she sent off her selfie for proof of obedience. Once perfectly plated, Lacey sent another photo off. She loved these receipts of subservience; it wasn't that Daddy didn't trust her to follow through, but he took pleasure in seeing her obey him. Her pink lace collar called for total power exchange, so more receipts than usual were sent throughout the day. After breakfast, Lacey tended to her makeup: a light powder foundation, just a hint of peach highlighter on the apples of her cheeks, a whisper of mascara, and a red based rose pink for her lips. 

**::Mr. Gold::** You look beautiful, sweet girl. Have a good day.

 **::Lacey::** You too, Daddy.

After giving herself another approving glance in the mirror, Lacey headed downstairs to unlock the library for the public and gather the returned books to scan back into the system. Mrs. Potts insisted that Lacey take over story hour because she looked so sweet. Mrs. Potts always seemed to say that whenever Lacey wore her pink pearl collar, and Lacey was only too happy to oblige as she loved to interact with children. She could push her melancholy away and focus on her task, reading from _The Collected Tales of Beatrix Potter_ , enjoying how the watercolor illustrations complimented her attire. The children were enraptured with the book, and Lacey was enraptured of them. At her lunch break, Lacey found a text message from Mr. Gold detailing what she was to eat. 

**::Mr. Gold::** I want you to make a cheese toastie and leftover soup from this weekend. Drink water. 

After telling Mrs. Potts that she was taking her lunch upstairs, Lacey went to follow his instructions, making sure to send her photographic receipt and wait until he confirmed her obedience before she tucked in. They had made the butternut squash soup together last Sunday, a favorite pastime during chilly Autumn evenings. When she was finished, Lacey returned to work and got started on several All Hallows Eve book displays for various reading levels. She loved All Hallows Eve, seeing all of the children in costumes year after year, running around the neighborhoods and Main Street, asking for tricks and treats.   
When her shift was finished, Lacey went upstairs and packed two canvas and leather bags filled with clothes needing laundering, including her running gear. After switching her shoes once more, Lacey left her apartment and exited to the separate entrance on the ground floor where her seafoam colored bicycle was chained up and waiting for her. She used it for errands mostly, setting her burdens in the darling brown wicker basket or packing the double pannier bags, which she attached before setting off. School was out and families were out and about too occupied with one another to notice the librarian assistant peddling away from town. Lacey was careful to park her bicycle in the detached garage lest some nosey neighbor spy her. Gripping the handles as she stood, still stradling the seat, Lacey chewed on her bottom lip and slowly began to rub herself along the hard seat of her bicycle. It sent little shockwaves of pleasure straight to her core. She wanted to explore more of this tantalizing prospect, but knew she couldn't without explicit permission.

 **::Lacey::** May I touch myself and come, Daddy?

 **::Mr. Gold::** Only if you show me proof afterwards.

Setting her phone in the basket, Lacey gripped the handles once more and began to work her sex along the bicycle seat again. She started slow, with long strokes from the narrow tip of the seat to the wider expanse, making sure to rock forward to ensure every bit of her silk covered slit was receiving friction. Once she felt the tell-tale wetness begin to saturate her panties, Lacey quickened her pace, giving small grunts as she thrust downward at the rounded tip of the seat for her clit's pleasure. Her palms were sweaty as she tightened her hold on the handlebars. As she felt the pressure in her core build, the warmth spreading from her sex outward, Lacey was hit by a bolt of inspiration. Squeezing the bike upright between her thighs, Lacey freed her hands to grab her cellphone with one and hold up her skirt in the other. Turning her phone to landscape, she began to record a close up shot of her momentum. Stuffing the end of her skirt in her mouth so that her other hand could steady the bike again, Lacey fucked the bicycle seat hard and fast, moaning against the fabric of her dress until she came with a muffled cry. She released the skirt from her mouth and stopped recording. 

**::Lacey::** I went for a special ride today. Sound on if you think you can handle it, Daddy. ;) 

Lacey dismounted her bicycle and unhitched the pannier bags to take inside the house. It wasn't until after she left the bags in the laundry room and got settled before she heard back from Mr. Gold.

 **::Mr. Gold::** I do not believe that is the recommended way to utilize a bicycle, sweet girl. 

**::Lacey::** Good thing you took off my training wheels years ago, Daddy.

 **::Mr. Gold::** Aye. There is juice and fruit for you if you want a snack. Do not eat any junk food. 

**::Lacey::** Thank you, Daddy.

 **::Mr. Gold::** Your chores list is on the fridge. You may watch one hour of television if you like. Otherwise, amuse yourself with books. I will cook dinner but you will assist me.

 **::Lacey::** Yes, Daddy.

 **::Mr. Gold::** If you complete all of your chores before I leave for work, I will pick up a treat for you on my way home.

 **::Lacey::** Thank you, Daddy!!!!

Lacey beelined for the list of chores. He kept it light, probably because of another playtime he had in mind later that week. She was to unload the dishwasher, tidy the countertops, and fluff and fold the towels waiting in the dryer. Fueled by the promise of a treat, Lacey focused on her chores, making sure to photograph the evidence of her obedience. Listening to music as she drank her juice and snacked on apple slices, Lacey made short work of her tasks. Shortly after she sent the last documentation of her chore list, he replied back.

 **::Mr. Gold::** Good girl. You have earned yourself a treat. I will be leaving work very soon.

Lacey touched up her lipstick, smoothed down her dress, and made sure her socks were straight before she went into the lounge to open a book and wait for Mr. Gold. 

**____________**

As Mr. Gold went about his closing up ritual, he idly wondered what to get for Lacey’s treat. He initially thought candy, but it was too close to All Hallows Eve and candy felt too common. His Lacey was special and needed to be rewarded for being a good girl today. _Especially_ after she gifted him with the video of her coming. Mr. Gold was a man of impressive restraint, but hearing his lover orgasm tested even his fortitude. A gentle smirk played on his face as he imagined her patiently waiting for him to arrive home, laying stomach side down with a book below her face, socked feet swinging in the air. No matter what she wore, no matter what game they played, Lacey was always the best part of his day; _his_ reward. Tuesdays and Thursdays were the only days they did not see one another, though it was not out of a lack of wanting, but a necessity to be seen and have a routine outside of each other. One day, Mr. Gold always promised himself, one day they would be free to be together every day of the week, sleep and rise next to one another every morning, to get married, live publicly, and even start a-- 

Mr. Gold abruptly stopped that train of thought with his masterful self-control. This was not the moment for wishful thinking. Wishes are for rubes who never read the fine print.

After locking up, Mr. Gold decided to take a brisk walk over to a local bakery, _Just Desserts_ , where he brwosed the day’s fresh baked goods. He had more of a sweet tooth than Lacey, but he tried to concentrate on her likes. 

“Anything catching your eye, Mr. Gold?” asked Marie Stahlbaum, the young baker and owner. “I baked a lovely apfelkuchen, made with the Mayor’s apples!”  
  
Mr. Gold wrinkled his nose. “No, thank you, dearie. I have an allergy with apples.”

Marie looked at him sympathetically. “That’s too bad. Chocolate, maybe?”

He tilted his head, considering. They both loved chocolate, but chocolate was for sinful, bad girls. Lacey was none of these things today.   
  
“Anything not so...dark?”

Marie thought for a moment before running down the expanse of the bakery, waving excitedly towards him. “Actually, we have a gorgeous kremówka!”   
  
He peered down inside the display case to see a thick wall of custard cream sandwiched between two layers of puff pastry, the top dusted with icing sugar. He grinned as he stood upright.  
  
“Perfect. Two slices to go, please, Miss Stahlbaum.”

**____________  
  
**

Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Gold handed Lacey the mint and pink colored pastry box, relishing the way her ocean blue eyes widened in wonder.   
  
“What is it?”

“A surprise treat. Go place it in the fridge and do not peek. We’ll have it after dinner.” 

They prepared dinner together: salmon poached in white wine with pesto and a side salad with orange poppyseed vinaigrette. He talked about his day until they sat at the table for their meal. At dinner he refused to allow her to cut her own food, doing it for her with all of the tender love of a Caregiver. He poured her water, seasoned her food, and once or twice delicately dabbed the corners of her mouth. Conversation turned to her day as well as her Tuesday visit with her father. 

"Dad is good,” Lacey replied as usual. “I want to get him a cat or a small dog, maybe. Something he can dote on and be responsible for. I know he gets lonely all by himself and tries not to smother me. I just want a companion for him."

Mr. Gold made a non-commital noise. He did not care very much for Moe French; the man did not have a head for money and more than once Mr. Gold had to strongly suggest that Lacey please take over her father's account keeping least business override personal ties. Not that Moe French knew of his relationship with Lacey. The men wore their mutual disdain for one another on their sleeve and it would only be Lacey caught in the middle. Mr. Gold had half a mind to sell the building to Storybrooke's florist if only so the threat of potential awkwardness between he and Lacey was eliminated. Unfortunately, Moe would never be able to afford to buy it out from him. Gold often fantasized of storming into the florist and trading his tenant ownership of the building for Lacey's hand in marriage. It was a silly daydream; Lacey would marry him regardless of her father’s arbitrary approval - if they could -but a blessing would be a nice gesture, especially for Lacey's sake. Mr. Gold could not give a damn one way or the other.

"Oh, I'm not sure pets are allowed?" Lacey suddenly asked, remembering that her lover is her father's landlord. Her embarrassment was so genuine, her pouty lips in such a perfect o shape that Mr. Gold could not resist a gentle smile. 

"As long as the animal is house broken and does not disturb neighbors, I promise not to put up much of a fuss."

"Thank you."

**____________  
  
**

“Clear the table, Lacey.”

When she returned he stopped her from returning to her seat. “Display.”

She obeyed, turning for his inspection. He nodded approvingly. 

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Second position.”

She went on her knees, palms down and relaxed atop her thighs. He fondled one of her braids as he stared at her, admiring her uncompromising servitude.

“You were so good to ask my permission before you played with yourself and came.”

“I am a good girl, Daddy,” Lacey replied. 

“And you didn’t just give me a photograph, you sent me that naughty, wonderful video. I am so proud of you.”

Lacey flushed with pride, her smile coy and relieved. Mr. Gold stroked her head, the back of his fingers caressing the shell of her ear, the apple of her cheek. She was perfection incarnate. He scooted closer to the edge of his chair and gave her right braid a gentle tug.

“Get your reward, sweet girl.”

Immediately Lacey went to his trousers and took out his straining cock, enveloping it in her mouth with an unparalleled hunger. She hollowed out her cheeks, sucking ferociously and deeply. His fingernails clawed at her scalp before taking hold of both of her braids and using them as a lever to propel her momentum. Her tongue swirled under the head of his cock before flicking the slit teasingly, causing Mr. Gold to moan. He loved this beautiful woman who gave him her everything. He worshipped her. Her control over him was the only thing he trusted in this life and he would die to protect her; to protect the sanctity of their relationship. His hips were jerking as he felt his climax begin to rise, thrusting Lacey downward with velocity that would make an untrained lover gag, but not his good girl. She could take him, and take him she did, all of him as his seed roared into her mouth. Once he released her, Lacey pulled back and swallowed. Not a drop spilt.

“Go to the lounge," he commanded breathlessly. "Remove your shoes and your bra, but keep your dress on. I will join you shortly; I'm going to bring out your treat."

"I thought that was my treat?" Lacey replied saucily. He let out a puff of humorless laughter before tugging on one of her braids.

"No cheek from you tonight, young lady."

"Yes, Daddy," Lacey replied, getting up to walk.

After arranging himself, Mr. Gold was struck with inspiration. He took a single custard slice out to a patiently waiting Lacey in the lounge. Setting the plate down on a side table, Mr. Gold sat on the sofa and beckoned Lacey onto his lap where he cradled her perpendicular to his body. He supported her in one arm while his other hand snaked under the hem of her dress and touched her sex through her panties. 

"I hope you are prepared, Lacey, because I am going to be extremely generous to you."

Lacey arched and moaned before remembering herself. "Yes, Daddy."

He stroked her panties with his knuckle initially, gently warming her up until he felt the familiar slickness pool against fabric. Then his fingers curled around the silk and slipped into the warm heat of her cunt. 

"Oh, sweet girl," Mr. Gold practically purred. "So easily ready for me.”

"Always, Daddy.'’ Her hips were soon thrusting against him, the two fingers plunged deep inside of her and the thumb pad expertly massaging her clit. "Yes, yes, yes, please, I need it, please may I come?"

He leaned so close to her, his breath tickling the microscopic hairs on her skin as he hotly whispered, "Come for Daddy, my sweet girl."

She broke, crying in ecstasy as she rode out her orgasm against his digits. Pulling her close against his chest, Mr. Gold dotted Lacey’s face with butterfly light kisses as she came down from her orgasm. 

“Color?”

“Orange,” she murmured, turning to nuzzle her face against his chest. His low chuckle reverberated comfortably against her. 

“Already? You are in for a night.”

“Don’t tease me,” she whined. 

“If you are expecting me not to tease you, sweet girl, you have another thing coming.”

“I have a lot coming tonight, don’t I?” She replied saucily. He slapped her rear, causing her to yelp.

“Cheeky girls will get punished instead of rewards.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” 

He righted her to a sitting position, facing away from him. He unzipped her dress’s side zipper and patted her thigh. “Remove your dress.”

Lacey stood to comply, slipping off her dress before folding it neatly and laying it on an armchair. 

“Not there, sweet girl,” Mr. Gold said as he used his cane to push himself to his feet. “On the credenza. That’s a good girl. Now, scoot the armchair over here, close and angled to the sofa.” He nodded approvingly as she did as he bid of her. “Good. Lie down on the sofa. Tits up.” He smirked at her.

“Yes, Daddy,” Lacey replied, unable to keep the curiosity out of her tone as she obeyed. Mr. Gold sat in the arm chair before reaching for the plate he had previously set on the side table. Leaving his cane to hang on the arm of the chair, Mr. Gold held the plate in one hand and the spoon in another. 

“Now, Lacey. We are going to play a little game. I trust that will not make a mess of my lovely furniture. I believe you are a smart and capable enough girl to control yourself.”

Lacey’s blue eyes shone with determination. “I will control myself, Daddy.”

Setting the plate down on the floor next to him, Mr. Gold's deft fingers unknotted and removed his tie. He set it on the arm of the sofa just above her head before deciding better, a sly smirk as he caught her gaze. 

“Close your eyes, sweet girl.” Once she complied, Mr. Gold laid the silk across her eyes and tied the ends under her head. “Is that comfortable?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“No peeking.”

“I won’t peek, Daddy.”

He scooped a small dollop of custard and delicately arranged it atop Lacey’s nipple, using the back of the spoon to spackle her areola. She gasped at the sudden sensation, but took a deep breath to get herself under control. 

“Good girl,” Mr Gold praised softly. “Hold your other breast up, like you are serving yourself on a gilded buffet just for me.”

She understood, using her right hand to cup her right breast from the side, holding it upright as he scooped another dollop of custard to lay atop the pert nipple. He set the plate down and scooted to the edge of his chair. His hand came up to knead the rounded soft flesh of her left breast, watching her blind anticipation. 

Leaning forward, Mr. Gold enveloped her sweet left nipple in his mouth. Lacey released a staggering cry; heat intermingled with cold, arousal tugging her nerves in every direction. His licked her hardened nipple, lapping the confectionary up like a kitten to milk with the occasional hard suck, drawing a sighing groan from her. She kept her right breast upright with her hand, ensuring the custard stayed in place. By the time he was on her right nipple, using his teeth to scrape every drop of custard off her flesh, Lacey felt the familiar pooling of hot arousal gathering in her core despite having come so soon beforehand. 

“Do you like this?”

“Yes, Daddy, so much.”

Another smear at the hollow of her neck before he was sucking and lapping again, tracing the tip of his tongue along the delicate expanse of her collarbone. A generous swab down the valley between her breasts, making her squirm and contort with ticklish pleasure. A dollop just below her belly button, his tongue stopping just above her pubis to nip her soft belly, making her gasp ever so lightly. Mr Gold then sat up, stretched his back before personally removing her panties, rolling them down her hips, legs and feet before casually tossing them onto the floor. Guiding her legs to bend up at the knee, he angled her body so her right knee was pressed against the back of the sofa while he hoisted her left calf to rest on his shoulder as he bent to access her inner thighs. Lacey was being very intentional about her breathing.

“Color?”

“Green,” she whispered huskily. Mr Gold smiled to himself before scooping another spoonful of custard and dotted it along her inner left thigh. As soon as his mouth began to suck on her flesh, he was rewarded with a gasp that morphed into a groan. He slid on his knees for better access to the skin closest to her treasures, the sweet of the custard mixing with the slight savory of her skin. He lingered far longer than usual, skipping over her slit to tackle her other thigh. 

“Daddy, please!” She gasped. He took his time to respond, releasing the flesh he had been sucking on with a salacious pop. 

“Please what?” He blew on her slit, enjoying the full bodied spasm that rippled through her. 

“Please eat me instead, Daddy.”

“Well,” he mused airily, kneading her outer folds with the pad of his thumb. “Since you asked so prettily.” 

Blindfolded and worked up so soon after her last orgasm heightened Lacey’s sense of anticipation. She knew he would not deny her, that her aching sex would be pampered upon once more. Still, he was an agonizingly patient man and sometimes his patience drove her to the edge of madness. When his tongue touched her folds, Lacey’s body released a shuddering sigh. His attention was languid initially, taking his time to savor every inch of her most hidden treasure. They had played this game enough times for her to recognize he was going to take his dear sweet time about his task; tease her to almost mind-bending levels of frustration, bringing her to the very precipice of euphoria only to pull back, leaving her sobbing and pleading for release. Her thighs were trembling from effort to keep her rotating hips from lifting her body off of the sofa; he was sucking hard on her clit and driving three fingers deep into her cunt. All Lacey could do was beg for clemency. 

"Please, Daddy, please, let me come! I can't - I can't anymore. Please? I'm a good girl, Daddy." 

He hummed against her tender parts, the vibration enough to send her eyes rolling back beneath the silk tie as she roared into her third climax of the day. His fingers darted in and out of her as his tongue laved her quivering walls, drinking her precious nectar as she twitched with aftershocks. 

With a grunt of effort, Mr. Gold returned to his chair. Leaning on his good side, he watched over Lacey carefully. 

"Color?"

"Orange," she whispered breathlessly. 

"Take your time, sweet girl." Smiling to himself, Mr. Gold hoisted himself up with his cane and went to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water for her. Sitting on the edge of the couch he helped ease her into a sitting position before holding the glass up to her lips. "There we are. Go easy, small sips." He rubbed soothing circles across her back. She nodded in gratitude and he placed the glass next to the plate on the side table. He untied the makeshift blindfold and tucked a flyaway around her ear. 

"Color?" He asked as she blinked up at him.

"Pink."

He immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "You have been a paragon of obedience today, my good girl. I am tremendously proud of you." He kissed her forehead. She sighed against him and rested her head on his shoulder. Sensory deprivation along with overstimulation always sent Lacey directly to her special sub space; it was a chore to temporarily leave it sometimes. 

"Green," she said after a few moments, informing him of her readiness to move on. 

He waited a moment before deciding it was time to move on. “Go to the powder room, freshen up, and then meet me in the study.” 

Lacey obeyed, going to the powder room to clean off errant traces of custard off of her skin. She freshened up her braids and carefully wiped away the slight smear of lipstick at the corner of her mouth. When she joined him in the study he was barefoot, the top three buttons of his shirt loose, and leaning against the desk with one of Lacey’s favorite paddles in his hands. It was made from mahogany with the unique shape of an engraved acanthus scrollwork. She loved its beautifully elegant shape, the woosh of air before impact, and the thudding weight across her bottom. His deeply set brown eyes stared at her, a wicked gleam sparkling at her. She returned the look in full, biting her bottom lip. 

“Fourth position on the desk, facing the book stand.”

He used the edge of the desk for leverage as he made room for her to climb up on the desk, empty save for the bookstand where a heavy bound book was opened. On her hands and knees, Lacey’s face was directly level with the open book, her eyes able to scan the text. It was the poem _Jabberwocky_ by Carroll Lewis from _Though The Looking-Glass and what Alice Found There_. 

“You recognize the text, of course,” Mr. Gol said smoothly.  
  
“Yes, Daddy.”

“You will recite it perfectly as I administer your spanking. If you are not clear in your enunciation, if you stutter or fumble, then the paddle will correct you. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Daddy.”

“Begin.”

“’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves” - _SPANK_ \- “Did gyre and gimble in the wabe” - _SPANK_ \- “All mimsy were the borogoves,” _SPANK_ \- “And the mome raths outgra _v_ e - er, outgrabe.”

“Oh, dear,” Mr. Gold tutted. “An error so soon?” He slapped the paddle harder against her ass, causing her to jut forward with a small grunt. “Keep going.”

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!” - _WHACK -_ “The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!” - _WHACK_ \- “Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The” - _WHACK -_ “furious Bandersnatch!”

“Ah, what was that word?”

Lacey looked at the words again and said with resignation, “Frumious Bandersnatch.”  
  
The paddle came down on her reddening cheeks in rapid succession, harder and faster. Lacey fought the need to slip further into her sub space, knowing she needed her wits to finish the rest of the poem. The paddling abruptly stopped with an open palm slap on her burning left cheek.

“Continue.”  
  
“He took his vorpal sword in hand;” - _WHACK WHACK_ \- “Long time the max, manx, manxome,” 

“Such a pity,” Mr. Gold tsked, the paddle thudding against her backside in swift cheek-to-cheek patterns. Lacey closed her eyes and mentally leaned into the sensation, the blows igniting the fire of passion fueled subordination in her veins. 

“Continue.”

“Foe he sought—” _WHACK WHACK_ \- “So rested he by the Tumtum tree”- _WHACK WHACK_ \- “And stood awhile in thought.” _WHACK WHACK_ . “And, as in uffish thought he stood,” - _WHACK WHACK_ \- “The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,” _WHACK WHACK_ \- “Came whiffling through the telg, tug, tulgey wood,”

“Gracious. You were doing so well, too. Repeat that line and finish the stanza.”

Lacey understood she was to repeat the line through the fury of the paddle. Taking a deep breath to ready herself, Lacey recited: “Came” _WHACK_ “whiffling” _WHACK_ “through” _WHACK_ “the tulgey” _WHACK WHACK_ “wood” _WHACK_ “And burbled” _WHACK WHACK_ “as it came!” _WHACK WHACK_.

She paused to catch her breath, hissing as his nails raked down her burning rear end. 

“One, two!” _WHACK WHACK_ “One, two!” _WHACK WHACK “_ And through and through” _WHACK WHACK_ “The vorpal” _WHACK WHACK_ “blade went” _WHACK WHACK_ “snicker-snack!” _WHACK WHACK ''_ He left it dead,” _WHACK WHACK WHACK_ “and with its head” _WHACK WHACK WHACK_ “He went galumphing back.” _WHACK WHACK WHACK._

Lacey opened her mouth to begin the next stanza but released a gasping cry as something cold globbed onto her left cheek. She turned to look, or tried to, but was given a slap on her right cheek.

“Continue,” Mr. Gold growled, his voice a low warning. 

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?” Lacey grunted as she felt his mouth on her heated skin, licking at what she could only assume was more custard. Struggling to not lose herself in all of the sensations, Lacey foraged ahead. “‘Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’ He chortled in his joy.” Another generous dollop of cold confectionary on her opposite cheek before Mr. Gold’s tongue and lips followed. Lacey swallowed a moan, pushing through the last stanza. “’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:” Two fingers slid into her sex from behind; she was surprised by the smallest of soreness and the rebound of her eager slickness. The heat of the paddle’s burn, the chill of the dessert, the wet of his tongue and expertise of his lips were overwhelming her. “All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.” She hung her head, panting. Mr. Gold drew away, running his hand appreciatively across his backside.

“Excellent. My good girl performed so well.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” 

“Color?”

“Orange.”  
  
“At your leisure, sweet girl.”

Keeping her eyes closed while she gathered herself, Lacey was only vaguely aware that Mr. Gold was moving around the desk. 

“Green,” she said when she was ready.

“First position.”

Lacey shifted to a kneeling position, knees spread with her palms facing upward. Mr. Gold was sitting in a wingback chair opposite her, the perfect view of her gloriously naked body. For a few moments he simply leaned on the cane standing between his splayed legs and admired her, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“Do you know what I am going to ask of you?”

“You want me to touch myself until I come.”

“My clever girl,” he purred. 

She was tender but well trained, especially with his heated gaze on her. Using one hand to twirl one braid idly, Lacey ran the other hand from her pouty pink lips down her slender neck to her right breast where she gave a playful squeeze, teasing her own nipple until it hardened to a rosey pebble. She repeated the gesture with her left breast, her other hand releasing her braid to take hold of her right breast. Even as her left hand crept down to her sex, Mr. Gold remained frustratingly languorous. Lacey was determined to get more than one kind of rise out of him. She moaned softly as her fingers parted her folds, tentatively touching her tender cunt. She was went from the paddling and used her index and middle fingers to spread the slickness throughout her sex before delving them deeper. Her sex quivered, sensitive from the three previous orgasms, yet greedy for more attention. Her thumb ghosted over her swollen clit, testing its sensitivity. Her body gave an involuntary jolt, causing Mr. Gold to smirk. 

"You're teasing me, Daddy," Lacey pouted. 

"I am doing nothing of the sort," Mr. Gold replied lazily. 

Lacey took her time, working her tit in one hand while the other explored her sex. Nipples were teased, pinched, and rolled while fingers did the same to her clit until she had them deep inside, thrusting her hips forward as she fucked herself. Lacey began to whine and whimper as she lost herself to the sensation, the rhythm, the pure ecstasy. She forgot about her goal until she happened to make eye contact with Mr. Gold again; he was staring with a dark hunger she recognized well. Locking her eyes with him, Lacey felt the familiar climb; her chest heaved as she rubbed her clit faster, fucked her fingers as they squelched with her juices until she finally peaked with a screech. Her eyes sparkled with triumph as she saw the rise and fall of his chest, the subtle flare of his nostrils. She knew what was next. 

"Did you like that, Daddy?" Lacey asked as she brought her fingertips to her mouth, tasting herself for his pleasure.

"On your feet," he growled brusquely as he used his cane to hoist himself out of the wingback chair. As soon as her feet hit the floor he added, "Bend over the desk."

Lacey let out a breathless titter as she complied, giddy she had undone him. She just found a comfortable position when he was filling her from behind, one of his hands on the desk for leverage while the other grabbed her braids and tugged to the aggressive rhythm of his thrusts. 

"You were such a good girl today, Lacey."

"Thank you, Daddy."

He tugged her braids, forcing her chin up as he bent over her to make eye contact. "Whose good girl are you?" 

"Yours, Daddy, I'm your good girl."

Mr. Gold forced himself to slow down, to revel in the velvety wet heat of her cunt. He released her hair to splay his palm between her shoulder blades, guiding his slow but deep and powerful thrusts that shook her whole body. Closing his eyes to better savor her, Mr. Gold slowly picked up speed as he felt the familiar prickling of the build. Their grunts were in unison as his hips snapped faster.

"Come inside me, Daddy, please," Lacey pleaded with a wanting moan. Her wish was his for the granting; his hand moved to her hip, pulling her taut against him as he climaxed with an expletive, filling her sweet and greedy cunt. "Yes, that's it, Daddy, come inside me, yes," Lacey keened, her words careening into unintelligible pleas and praise until they were both left panting against the desk. He recovered first, tucking his cock back into his trousers before grabbing his cane to fetch a folded blanket on another chair. Unfurling it, he wrapped Lacey up and slowly eased her upright. 

He led her out to the lounge to cuddle up on the sofa again where he patiently loosened her hair from their braids, running his fingers gently through her chestnut tresses. He kissed her softly, whispered sweet nothings to her and slowly welcomed her back from her special zone. 

"Tea?" Mr. Gold offered. She nodded. 

He made sure she was swaddled nicely in her blanket before leaving her for the kitchen, returning with a cup of tea and a plate carrying the second custard slice with a fork. He handed her the teacup. 

"Something sweet?"

Lacey smiled shyly and nodded. Mr. Gold proceeded to feed her, enjoying their time in aftercare as much as their playtime. Lacey deserved her reward. After all, she was his good girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can slide into my DMs and whisper RumBelle to me at http://www.geek-girl-extraordinaire.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that, you filthy animals. ;) My first fic within the RumBelle fandom has officially started. Thank you for reading. If you want to whisper sweet RumBelle in my ear, please find me on tumblr: http://www.geek-girl-extraordinaire.tumblr.com


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